My Pattinson Holiday
by morrigan the undead
Summary: ..."Then I felt his lips-his live, warm lips-on mine." What happens next? AU, Inspired by Notting Hill!
1. Chapter 1

**This is a belated Christmas gift to all who took a chance to read my story. Hugs to Susan for the tips, and as always, to the Other Mrs Cullen. Please read "Hi, I'm Robert Pattinson" before you proceed with this story. Thanks so much!**

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It has been six months. I try not to keep track of the time, but whenever I sit on my couch or see the mug he used I couldn't stop my eyes from straying to the calendar on the fridge. Then I take a deep breath.

After the usual hoopla about his security and privacy and all that, all that was mentioned of me was the fact that he had a waiting accomplice by the next street as a backup to such a scenario that happened to him. As a result, he had to have twenty-five bodyguards to protect him as he went from the set to his trailer.

Of course, you know who I'm talking about, right?

Six months. That's one hundred eighty five days, twenty-six weeks, four thousand three hundred eighty hours, and two hundred sixty-two thousand, eight hundred minutes and counting.

Aside from blogging, I managed to supplement my living with freelance writing and tutoring privileged high-schoolers from the Upper East Side. And then to make some use for my Literature degree I try to find a bit of part-time from one of the numerous magazines and publishing companies in this glorious city, but alas, to no avail. So I trudge on.

I was staring at the lonely space in the screen representing my account balance when a flurry of knocks resounded on my door. Knowing full well who it was, I merely sat there until it opened with a flourish. A human cannonball entered. Seriously.

"And Bella's gallant best friend comes to rescue her from the pits of hell!"

Leslie's eyes were glowing, and I could almost imagine the fanfare she hears in her head. She stared triumphantly towards her imaginary audience for a moment before she turned to me, hands on her hips.

"Why don't you ever answer your door, Swan?"

"Because I know, just by the knock, whether it'll be you or my ever-beloved brother. And you have a key." I only raised my eyebrow at her before I resumed looking at my bank statement. "Besides, I'm busy."

"Busy, as in, say, solving the climate problem at the World Climate Convention or canceling third world debt?" She only grinned and dumped her bags on the floor. She tapped my shoulder to ensure I was looking, and then proceeded to execute a perfect pirouette.

"What do you think?"

"Um, you do mean the sweater right?"

Her eyes rolled. "Really, for someone who lives in Manhattan you have a very limited fashion sense. These are the spoils of a knitted items sale at Saks and the TerraNova warehouse! The entire ensemble, might I add."

"Congratulations." The wry tone did not fool her. "You got those probably because not many people go out to shop in the coldest of winter days."

"You'll be surprised. Anyways, what were you so busy about? You never returned my phone calls." She flopped down the rug beside me, taking a surreptitious look at my laptop. Then there was silence for the tiniest second before she said, "Oh."

"Right." I grinned humorlessly. "This kinda makes me want to be like the Grinch and make everybody miserable this Christmas as well. I don't know how else I can survive, short of going for a few weeks to Phoenix or borrowing from benevolent benefactors."

"Meaning me?" Her tiny teeth flashed in a smile, and I laughed. "Seriously, you don't have to speak twice about it, Bella. How much do you need?" She's an actress who has a good part in one of the running plays on Broadway, and I knew she'd say this.

So I waved her offer away. "No thanks, Les, but I owe you too much already. Surely a job will come up. Now," I closed my laptop with a determined click, "what made you brave the weather to come all this way?"

"To cheer you up, of course." She wiggled the bags in front of my face. "I brought some of those bagels and cream cheese from your deli, and I have set up a film fest for us tonight, so no arguing."

Two pedicures, manicures, some hair color (hers) and a massage (mine) later, we were on the couch and watching a movie by one of her favorite actors so far. First to play was Twilight. Now why wasn't I surprised?

We acted the complete idiots. We moaned about the costumes, the character designs, the awful lighting. We hissed at Jacob as he got on screen. We swooned when He appeared, and stifled our giggles at the First Kiss.

We paused the screen as he glared with all the anguish in his soul.

"Imagine," Leslie whispered so as not to break the spell, "somewhere in the world there is a woman who is allowed to kiss him."

My smile slowly faded, and I sighed again. My bubble had inexplicably burst, but there was a smile that tugged at my lips.

"Yes, she's really lucky, huh?"

If I was quiet for the rest of that evening, Leslie never mentioned it. We went ahead and watched Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Vanity Fair, Ring of the Nibelungs, and even The Haunted Airman, which she found in a dvd sale. And we drank tea. Lots of it.

Eventually we passed out. I woke up to find the credits rolling, and I already forgot what was playing.

I got up to turn off the tv and player, then went to the bedroom to fetch a spare blanket for my guest. Guest schmest. She practically lives here, in accordance with my giant television and good acoustics. And she does know how to lift me up from my problems.

The phone rang, and I jumped. I glared at the handset before lifting it.

"This better be good."

"Whoa, do you have PMS or something?" Dale was clearly enjoying himself. "I was just concerned about my little sister, that's all."

"You know perfectly well about the time difference between the East and Pacific, right, so why do you insist on calling at ungodly hours?"

"Just checking if you're still okay." I could imagine the Cheshire grin he'd be sporting by now. "Besides, I forgot to tell you that I addressed my resume to your apartment, in case someone gets a-calling. Or in case I get my paycheck from one job I did there, which ought to be soon."

Dale is an IT major and like me, freelances on creating or upgrading software for companies. Our difference is that he gets paid much more than I ever will be. That's one of the reasons why he simply crashes here instead of finding his own apartment, and I have a sneaking suspicion that he also does it to annoy me.

"Okay, noted. Anything else?" I scribbled it on the pad beside the phone, my equivalent of an answering machine. Then I saw a spidery scrawl on the corner of the page. "Did you write something here?"

"What?"

"My notepad. I'd recognize chicken scratches anywhere. What did you write here?"

"Oh that! Lemme see... That was like, three weeks ago."

"The last time you were here?"

"Yep."

"So what did you write about? Not everyone has a degree in hieroglyphics."

"Oh yeah! Some guy called and asked for you, but you were out. To be honest, I was quite shocked, can you imagine, a GUY calling my little Isabella, I should've had it printed on a tarpaulin banner or something like that-"

He rambled on, but my heart was racing. A guy. Called my apartment. Not many males do that, as I was quite... bland... for their tastes. Especially New Yorkers.

"Okay, so what did he say?"

"Huh?"

Really, our mother must have dropped him when he was a baby. I summoned all the patience I could muster.

"The guy, what did he say?"

"Yeah, right! I think he said thanks, and that he just wanted to know how you were doing. Then he gave his number, and his hotel. He must've been intimidated about my husky voice cause he hung up pretty fast after that.." He laughed. He f----ing laughed.

Then a thought struck me and made my blood run cold.

"Wait, what exactly did you say to him? You didn't pretend to be my _boyfriend_, now did you, Dale Emmett?"

The short pause at the other end was small comfort, but comfort nonetheless.

"Uh-oh."

The one word made me close my eyes. Why, oh why am I related to this imbecile? "Don't answer that. So who was it?"

"He had a weird name. What was that again? Rats... Hats... Slats...."

"Please consider the fact that I am trying my hardest not to fly over there just to strangle you," I said as a way of motivation.

"Oh yeah! I remember! It was 'Pats'!"

Physical violence has merits. But for now I wanted to pass out. Of _course_ I knew who it was. I slammed the receiver down (I hope he lost his hearing) and ran nerveless fingers through my hair. Regardless of my stupid sibling's handwriting, I should know better than plunge myself in his crazy world. This must be joke from a paparazzo, someone who managed to follow us. Or someone who managed to pay someone from his crew. Everything has a price, after all.

He called. No, he didn't. He called. No, he didn't. He called. No he didn't. I felt like Gollum and Smeagol.

Regardless, I stayed up the rest of the night. And that was how Leslie found me a few hours later: a statue by a coffee mug, sitting by the kitchen table.

"Hey, did you get to sleep at all?" Absently scratching one eye, she peered at me over the fridge door. Her head disappeared for a moment before it appeared with a slice of ham between her small teeth.

"My moronic sibling called."

"Okay." I knew I need not say more. "I thought I heard the phone ringing. So what was it about?"

The mere memory made my hands itch to wrap them around Dale's windpipe. "Apparently a guy called and asked about me, but his typical brotherly concern made him pretend to be my boyfriend before he could even get the guy's full name."

The orange juice jug slammed down on the table, and I jumped. Looking up at her face, I smirked. It was the first time Leslie was speechless.

"A guy...called...you? Hey! You never told me anything about that!"

I flushed. I wasn't very good at lying. "It was just some guy I helped out. I honestly forgot to tell you." Sort of.

"Why?" She knew me too well. Her gaze narrowed at my red cheeks before she jumped to her conclusions. "Did you like him? Or..." Her eyes widened. "Or is he someone famous?"

"Now why would you think that?" I flinched at how easily she got to it. "Don't be ridiculous." Thank God I managed to make my face a bit more composed.

"Which part was ridiculous?"

"All of it." I sat up straighter and raised my eyebrows. "He was kind of cute, though." I thought to tease her a little.

She only gave me a knowing smile. "_I _know what I would do if Rob would drop in my lap all of a sudden. And he'll probably stay there long."

"TMI," Groaning, I covered my ears. "Spare me from the horrid details, please."

"Why, what's wrong with Rob?" Ever ready to defend her ideal man-of the-moment, she was glaring this time. Then her expression became wistful. The sudden switches used to give me headaches.

"He's perfect, like a cross between Marlon Brando and James Dean. I even have a song that plays in my head whenever I see pictures of him."

Thankful that her mind was easily diverted, I desperately latched on to the subject. "How about 'I'm Horny'?" I laughed at her dignified scowl.

"No, it's the old M2M song, 'Pretty Boy'. Do you remember that?"

I had a vague memory of girls singing like Chipmunks in love. So I just shrugged. True to form, she straightened up to give me a sample of the aforementioned song.

_I lie awake at night, see things in black and white_

_I only got you inside my mind _

_You know you have made me blind_

_I lie awake and pray that you will look my way_

_I have all this longing in my heart_

_I knew it right from the start..._

We were laughing as we went on to sing the whole song, and we were still laughing as the conversation soon turned to the old songs from Spice Girls and the Backstreet Boys. All mentions of my mysterious guy was forgotten. The diversion was a success. I was smiling as Leslie waved goodbye a few hours later, and took the time to peruse my email.

Leslie's bubbly presence helped me return to my usual rational self. Of course it was a prank. How else would a complete stranger make me contact him? There could be no other explanation than that. I tried to dismiss it completely from my mind. Everything is much clearer in the harsh light.

The rest of the day was filled with an unbelieving shock as I read the email from one of my clients. It was asking me to present an article about a recent Vanity Fair photo exhibit by renowned photographer Bruce Webber. No other details were given, aside from the schedule and location of the event, which was... tonight?

I made a little wild dance around the living room. Hurray for another paycheck! And with the fickleness of youth, I forgot for a brief moment.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi guys! Thanks so much for your time. I'm having the toughest case of writer's block right now, and all I could come up with was another story that came to mind as I was in a train, of all places. Yep, there were a few inconsistencies in the first story, but I loved it the way it is so I chose not to edit further. Please bear with me. Bella here is loosely based from the Bella in the books, not Kristen Stewart. So feel free to put yourself in her shoes. I know I do. .**

**Twilight and recognizable characters are property of Stephenie Meyer. And I do not own or know Robert Pattinson (though I wish I did).**

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I was nervous.

I stood in front of the full-length mirror behind the closet door, contemplating the solemn-faced girl with the big brown eyes and mahogany brown hair. The pale complexion, a result of not having too little sun and too much exposure to books and computers, look sick even in the full light.

Thanks to Leslie, I have a pretty blue knitted dress on that fell down just before the knees. She taught me how to pair it with black stockings and half-boots with inch-high heels. I saw no sense in having an extravagant outfit when most of it will be covered by my coat, but she insisted. I would've done it in slacks and a shirt, damn all the prudes for propriety. I absolutely refused to put on more makeup aside from the lip gloss and cheek tint.

Going down the elevator, out to the main lobby, and out to the harsh winter cold... The things I have to endure to live.

One of the first things that I've learned while living in this metropolis is the fact that in winter, snow is not always as romantic as Hollywood portrayed it. It's wet, mushy and often dangerous. Especially when it comes to traffic. No doubt a lot more people will be driving slower in the ice-slicked roads. Ergo, more traffic jams. And I cannot obviously use my motorcycle with this ridiculous dress on, forcing me to take an even more ridiculously-expensive cab ride to a gallery about fifteen minutes away.

My phone rang just as I got inside.

"I'm wearing the dress, the stockings and the shoes," I said by way of greeting.

"It can't get any worse than this."

"Ooh, I know you look cute in that outfit!" Leslie was positively gushing.

"You do know that people also say something is 'cute' to avoid saying that the thing is ugly, right?"

"Shut up and leave me be, Swan. It's not everyday that you leave that high tower of yours."

I missed her even more. "Aww, can't you come along? You can gate crash or something. Pretend your invitation got lost." The silly print-out card that stood for an invitation was burning it's presence in my purse.

"And never live it down if I get caught? No, thanks. Relax, it'll be fun. How often do you get a job like this?"

"Come to think of it…never."

"Relax. Smile when somebody looks at you, grab a glass of champaign and hold it as you look around. Try to mingle."

"Right. Smile, get drunk and walk around. Sounds good to me."

The sarcasm was wasted. "Yeah. If you're lucky someone might just buy you another drink. And if you're really lucky-"

"Will you please stop that or you're gonna burn my ear off!"

My face felt really hot as it is. And the cabbie was starting to give me weird looks. This has got to be one of the longest cab rides I've ever had.

I said a quick goodbye as I saw the Mirra Galley, one of the trendier outfits downtown. It looked more like a movie premier than a photo exhibit, complete with the bow-tied waiters and red carpet. In my haste to get ready I never did anything more than skim the press release.

Okay. Here I am. Deep breaths, Swan.

The facade of the building resembled a modern Greek temple. The tall columns on the front stood beside the clear glass doors. Huge flower bouquets were at the entrance, along with the remains of the ribbons from the opening ceremony. With something more than trepidation, I went in.

Bloggers come in real handy for small-time online newsletters and magazines that have a shortage of reporters, or for big companies with major websites needing a bit more input from the outside realm of the business. I am a kind of writer, in a sense, just not in paper. Does that even count?

I gave my printout to the receptionist, and she wrote my name on a small ID card before pasting it on my chest. The crowd was, to put it in old English terms, an absolute crush. Given my less-than-adept maneuvering skills, I decided to abandon the idea of walking around with a glass full of champaign and decided to simply…wander.

According to the small pamphlet they handed out, press interviews will be held in the main foyer, and some lucky writers will get to have five-minute interviews with some of the guests involved in the exhibit in private rooms. I wonder how that's gonna happen.

The exhibit was to commemorate the photographer's career anniversary and Vanity Fair's crowning glory of exclusive photos by the most beautiful celebrities of the time. It was fairly fascinating. Greta Garbo, Audrey Hepburn, Grace Kelly, all the way to the modern stars in their latest covers.

Guess who the "one of the latest" was.

A picture of him playing the piano in an open field. Him with his arms folded, looking downcast. Him smoking in what appeared to be a tent. Him reading a book with a naughty title, smiling.

I hardly ever see him smile in photographs.

What got to me most was a picture of him sitting in a bus station, a guitar case and his bag between his legs. His hand cradled one chin, and he looked for all the world like a traveling performer on his way to another show. It looked timeless.

I remembered an image of him: bloody, battered and covered in bruises, yet still a good-looking guy. I believe only the truly beautiful can be that. Yup, he wasn't handsome.

He was beautiful, achingly so.

I was standing in front of the picture, arms folded behind my back. If anybody jostled me or game me strange looks, it didn't matter. I could've stood there forever.

That is, until somebody pulled a sleeve of my coat, a bit insistently. I looked beside me, and glanced down. It was a pixie with a gorgeous red dress and spiky hair. She carried a clipboard and another set of badges, one of which she handed to me.

"Hi, I'm Alice Greene, Rob's PA. Congratulations, you've been picked to interview him!" She gave me a bright smile.

I blinked. Am I hearing this right?

"I'm afraid it's just for about five minutes, but please follow me." Taking no notice of my stunned silence, she grabbed my hand and proceeded to tow me across the crowded floor and up a stairwell I hadn't noticed earlier. It was the second level of the gallery, and to the right immediately after going up were a few doors. She pushed me in front of the third door, making me blush again because a lot of other people were in line. They took no notice though, probably because of the other badge. When I checked, it said VIP. Huh.

Alice smiled again, and peered inside. Then she swung back to look at me.

"Go right ahead." She winked.

I prayed for the world to stop spinning for a moment. I don't have a recorder, nor a set of questions, I didn't even know much about this event, what the hell am I supposed to say to him, I never even checked the number he gave me, I felt like my hands were dipped in ice water-

Robert Pattinson stood with his back to me. The office had wide windows that overlook the floor below. He was wearing a dark blue suit that set off the impressive width of his shoulders.

"Hi." I was breathless.

"Hi." He turned, and smiled.

That smile could send a crowd into hysteria.

"Well, I didn't expect to see you here. Sorry, I'm kinda vague when it comes to news...."

"It's okay. I saw you." He pointed to the windows, and when I realized the direction he was pointing at I wanted the world to swallow me. He obviously caught me ogling him.

Think, Swan.

"Yeah, those were nice pictures." I was glad my voice was steady enough, though I remained standing near the door.

"You never called back, I figured you were quite--busy." Ah, the British reserve. They really do hold themselves back.

"Yeah. My brother forgot to give me a message. But... Pats? That was really you?"

He smiled wider. "Sorry for the secrecy, you never know who could be listening. I'm still not used to all this. This is quite ridiculous, actually." The telltale gesture of his hands running through his hair.

"Yeah, I'll probably beat him to death with a baseball bat when we meet again, but anyways... Why exactly did you call?" The memory of Dale's odious grin helped me gain a more relaxed footing. The irritation helped me to be more casual.

"Oh yes, the brother, I almost forgot. The shirt's in my hotel room, I forgot to bring it with me, sorry-"

"No, that's fine. He won't miss it. He owes me. Anyways, this is a swell party. Good thing I got to land this." Dale, you'll be the death of me. For good and bad reasons.

His eyes glinted with something I thought of then as a trick of the light.

"I never thanked you properly after all that trouble we went through. I was wondering, perhaps-"

For the second time since we met, the door was assaulted with a series of preliminary knocks before his agent and PA walked through.

"Hello Robert dear, don't keep it too long, the line is getting pretty long outside! Now have you seen the head shots I've brought along? Harper's Bazaar is asking for a copy!"

"This is Bella, Amanda, remember her?"

The empty glance she sent my way was immediately filled with adulation. She walked to me in impossibly high heels and crushed me in a cloud of Chanel No 5. The same air kisses graced my cheeks. I got the impression that this was an elaborate performance. Alice rummaged though some cases I never noticed at the corner, then stood up with an armful of photos.

"_Dah-ling_! Thanks so much for coming, I had no idea how you got here, you must be very good at these sort of things, I gotta hand it to you."

"Er, actually this was a work assignment." I managed to interrupt what I knew would be a litany. "I'm gonna do a feature for Fashionista dot com. I didn't know he would be here."

Robert grinned apologetically at me over her shoulder. She merely made a "Hmp" noise, and after squeezing his cheek, she left again, with another admonishment about the time. I got the unpleasant feeling that she considers me a stalker and a waste of Robert's precious time.

That managed to kill all the butterflies in my stomach. I was gazing at the door when he cleared his throat, and reminded me immediately of who was in the room with me.

"Sorry, she's a bit overprotective of me. So, as I was saying," he stepped nearer.

My heart slowly went to overdrive.

"Do you get to celebrate Christmas with your family this year?"

"Uh...no, Dale-my brother-is gonna be with his girlfriend, I think, and my parents are divorced, so to avoid hurt feelings I make it a point to not be in one of their houses when there's a special occasion. Aside from birthdays, that is." Was I babbling? I hope not.

"Well, due to unfortunate circumstances I cannot go home as well, I have several commitments here. So, I was thinking...how about dinner? Tomorrow night?"

"Dinner? On Christmas eve?"

"Yes, if that's...quite alright with you." He faltered, staring at my face.

"Sure, that would be nice," I smiled, then gasped. I put one had over my forehead. "Oh crap, I forgot! My best friend Leslie's gonna host a dinner for a few of our closest friends, and she's been planning it for the longest time...Crap!"

"That's fine."

Okay. "What?"

"I'll be your date there, if that's okay."

He was waiting for an answer, and I was standing there like a gaping moron. I took another deep breath to fortify myself.

"Yeah...sure, why not? We'll probably just have takeout from her favorite restaurant, she hates cooking, but pretends she does, so...you could just say the food's great."

"Okay. Can I have your address again?"

"Okay." I scribbled it on a pad he gave me, and gave a few directions on how to find the apartment from the main avenue. He only nodded.

"Um...I'll be seeing you, then. Eight, I think."

"Thanks."

He took my hand for a handshake, and leaned somewhat a bit awkwardly towards my side. I felt a ghost of a kiss on my right cheek.

"See you tomorrow, Isabella."

I forgot how I made it home that night. I never even knew how I stopped myself from spontaneously combusting.


	3. Chapter 3

**I TOTALLY, SINCERELY apologize for the delay. I just had a lot of things on my plate now. Rest assured this will be finished before the end of the month.**

**Standard disclaimers apply. Please help us in giving dear Robert his privacy and not to freak him out with our affections (which tend to be on the wild side).**

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So how did the rest of the day pass? I couldn't really begin to tell you.

Well of course I was a bit psyched out by who I was going out with. But then again, I was more psyched by the fact that I have a date _at all_. It's not that I'm ugly, but I'm not that beautiful either. With my interest in books and classic love stories, I never felt left out by the real thing. Love in reality is quite – painful.

I remember starting on the promised article, trying a bit of food for a stomach that couldn't handle anything, and deciding what to wear. That one was pretty easy, as I have absolutely no intention of dolling myself up after what I endured the night before.

_But look what you ended up with_, an imp said in my ear.

I made a phone call to Leslie that afternoon.

"Halloo, Isabella! Don't forget tonight! Honestly, sometimes I think I have to staple our dates on your forehead, you're quite absentminded."

"Yeah, about tonight. I'll be bringing someone, alright?" I let that sink in for a second. "A guy."

The rest of what I was about to say was drowned out by a long, drawn out scream. Honestly, I have to move the receiver away for a few seconds.

"My little Bella bringing a date to my dinner? Oh, gods, have you answered my prayers?"

I was beginning to have doubts about this.

"Who is it? Do I know him?"

Of sorts. "I don't think so. Maybe you've heard about him, you know more people than I do."

Thankfully she went along with it.

"Oooh, trying to be all mysterious, huh?"

"Yeah, well, can you promise me one thing, and make all the guys swear too?"

"Anything! This is almost a cataclysmic event."

Right. "Swear you won't ask awkward questions."

"Okay…that's it?"

"Pretty much,yes. AND don't put him on the spotlight often."

There was a disappointed huff. "Okay, Miss Bossy. Take away all the fun."

Huh. If she only knew.

Time passed like pouring water; I couldn't even catch up with the flow. Soon it was six-thirty and I was taking a shower. At seven I was already dressed in a comfy pair of jeans, a long sleeved shirt and my favourite black pullover. I hoped _he_ wasn't too dressed up.

Short of pacing or twiddling my thumbs, I decided to phone the family to fulfill the holiday obligation. Dad was still in Forks; Mom was with Phil in Jacksonville. And then came my beloved brother.

"Hiya Bells, are you cold and lonely in that bed of yours?"

I could hear the clink of bottles and rock music in the background. Sounds like his party is well under way.

"Merry Christmas to you too Dale. Is Rosalie there?"

"Yeah, she just went to the kitchen to get more beer. Serve the man in the house, you know what I mean?"

"Right." I snorted. "Did you get my gift?"

"Yup, thanks! I totally dig it. You should try it too, you know."

"Glad you like it." I gave him two certificates for skydiving lessons. Pretty pricey, but worth it when I heard his enthusiasm. He was an adrenaline junkie.

"I already have something for you, but if you'd like something else…"

"As a matter of fact, I do. How about you _not_ crashing in my apartment for the duration of our lifetime?"

Dale was chortling so much, he almost choked.

"My dear sister, even if I get an apartment I will never give up my key. Who's gonna keep an eye on you? You can't even walk down the hall without tripping."

"I love you too." I was finally smiling. He may be a pain in the posterior, but he's family.

"So did that guy call you back? He's gotta have guts, taking on someone like you."

Scratch that. I was probably adopted.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, we are going to Leslie's Christmas eve dinner together!"

His reaction was a bit like Leslie's, only a lot lewder.

"My little sister finally getting some action! Hoo!"

"I'm not out to put notches on my bed like you!"

"Cross my heart, try Trojans, they have the best texture and flavour--"

"Dale Emmett Swan!"

Whenever I talk to him, I end my sentences in exclamation points. Plus, my face always gets redder than ever. I slammed the phone again and stomped to the door as the bell rang.

He was outside, holding a bunch of the most beautiful roses I have ever seen. As our gazes met however, I was distracted by the vibrant blue of his eyes and for a moment I couldn't decide which was better.

They were both perfection.

Was I still breathing?

"Good evening." Rob held out the flowers with a small bow.

"Erm- thanks." I held the bouquet close and savored the scent. He truly_ is_ out of this world.

"I don't mean to pry, but were you just fighting with someone?" His eyes flickered towards the living room.

"Oh! Oh no, I was just on the phone with Dale."

Looking at his clothes, I couldn't help laughing.

"Is something wrong?"

"We match," I happily declared.

He was also dressed in jeans, a white shirt and a black suit jacket. We have the same color combination. It helped dissipate some of the tension I was feeling. I remembered his bodyguards, and I peered to both ends of the hallway.

"I gave them the slip. Alice said I have an appointment at the Midtown Spa." He looked smug. "Shall we?"

I went in to put the flowers in a vase with water and took my coat.

Locking the door behind me, we walked out and took the lift. For the second time. I felt a hysterical giggle trying to come out.

"So— how does one evade twenty-five bodyguards?"

"It takes timing and determination. And a good accomplice."

"Okay. So did Alice drive you here?"

He started scratching his nape, and looked up. We were now at the ground floor, heading outside.

"Actually, about that."

He steered me by the arm towards the parking lot and pointed to one of the vehicles. I couldn't help it, I squeaked in excitement.

"You came in that?" It was a black and red Ducati.

"I needed something to cover my face, and I needed something that's easily maneuvered. The ride with you was an enlightening experience."

Running towards the machine, I fondly patted the seat and checked the specs. It was a Monster S4 Fogarty: 916 cc, 4 stroke engine, 110 horsepower and six speed transmission. It was style and power combined. Impossible as it may sound, I have totally forgotten about company until he spoke again.

"It's a rental, though. Alice thought it matches me pretty well."

"You could get away with running a red light if you're on this." I grinned at him. "But isn't it a little conspicuous even for you?"

"Better them noticing the machine rather than me." He walked to the compartment box, taking out the helmets. I caught the one he tossed to me. "So where are we headed?"

"Leslie's is over sixth and 102nd, not that far. I'll show you the shortcuts."

"Would you like to try driving this?" There was a wicked gleam in his eyes.

"Really?" Now I know the significance of the expression, 'kid in a candy store'!

He only smiled again, and gave me the key.

Our second ride together was significantly different, for several reasons. One, I knew the face under the helmet. Two, I was riding a dream machine. And three, his arms around me were familiar and exciting at the same time.

We made it in record time. Before we went in, he took another package and hid it under his coat. We were still laughing about the ride as we reached apartment B32. I had a fist raised to knock, but it was opened by a flustered, grumpy Leslie.

"Go right ahead Bells, vague food crisis." With that, she ran down the hall to the lift. She never even looked at my companion.

Let me give you a briefing about my circle of friends. There is Jessica, an upcoming model. Mike is a junior tradesman in a small investment company,, meaning he makes more money than all of our income combined. Eric is a fashion designer, currently enjoying apprenticeship under Vivienne Westwood. Angela is a junior copyrighter for the Times. (I always say she got my job. I was only half joking.)

I shrugged my shoulders as we looked at each other. Taking a bit more out of courage I never knew I had, I took his hands and we both went inside what I call "Bohemian Rouge."

Eric, Jessica and Leslie were roommates. Being aspiring artists, they took it upon themselves to have the most hedonistic, expressive apartment in the whole New York City.

As a result, there were the hand painted murals, exotic Turkish furniture, large throw pillows and faux antique curtains (I never knew where they found those). There was also the baby grand piano they kept purely for decorative purposes.

"Here comes the Belle of the evening!" Eric was one of two people in the living room, and he came forward to give me an exuberant kiss. "Who is this mystery man Leslie was talking about?" As he was talking, he turned his flirty eyes on the man behind me. They slowly grew round as saucers.

"Oh my God! You're the spitting image of—"

"Robert, this is Eric. Eric, Robert."

I couldn't help grinning as Rob held out a hand. Eric had to blink twice before shaking it.

"How do you do?"

If there were doubts about him, they were erased by the voice and the accent. The gay chatterbox was rendered mute.

"Um…thanks, fine. Jess and Mike are in the dining room."

He took our coats to hang them in the closet, but not before glaring at me when he thought rob wasn't looking. We passed Angie by the couch, and she gave me a thumbs up after waving to him.

I am enjoying this. IMMENSELY.

As it turned out, most of the foods were already laid out. Mike and Jess were flirting with the table napkins when we entered.

"Hey Bella, got an audition for FHM. Can you believe it?" She said to me immediately. I rolled my eyes.

"You got paid to take your clothes off?" Mike was laughing.

"_Some_ of my clothes. You see"— She turned.

Whatever monologue she had in mind disappeared, as I know it would. I introduced Robert to them, and they were gracious enough to act casual. Their minds are probably exploding with questions right now. There was a pregnant pause.

"So what's for dinner?" I asked brightly, lifting one of the covers. "Leslie sounded irate."

"Most of these are Capricciosa; the new joint downtown. But the desserts Leslie ordered can't be delivered, so she had to pick them up herself." Eric came in with a bottle and some glasses. "Red or white, anyone?"

"Oh, please accept this," Robert said, holding out the present. It was a bottle of '69 Chateau Lateur. "This is my present for you guys. Thank you for accepting me."

"Thank you Robert, you shouldn't have!" Jessica beat Eric to it, her eyes shining. "I'll certainly have some of this." She batted her lashes for maximum effect.

Mike had already opened the bottle when we heard the door open. Leslie, apparently, was still in a bad mood.

"Can you believe it, paying for a delivery fee and not having it delivered! This is robbery, I tell you!" She was almost shouting.

"We're here Les!" I called out.

"Right." She walked in snatching her bonnet off. "This is absolutely— FUCK SHIT!" With that poetic exclamation, even Robert couldn't help laughing.

"Oh my God! I'm not dreaming. This isn't a dream, is it? You're really… really here?" Leslie walked up to us, staring at Rob's face.

"Yes, I very much am."

"Bella!" She turned and folded me in a bone-crushing hug." Thank you so much! This is worth a decade of presents!!!"

I grinned at him over her shoulder. "No prob."

After the initial tension, the evening worked out pretty well for our rowdy bunch. We poked fun at Mike's boring job, laughed at Eric's numerous affairs and expressed appropriate enthusiasm at Jessie's anecdotes. Angie was her usual quiet self. Leslie seemed content with Rob's presence, only stopping every now and then to offer him a bit of food or wire.

Our favourite part was, of course, dessert. It was worth Leslie's effort because the black forest cake was enough to tempt angles from heaven.

"Very well, we are down to the last slice." Calmer after a few glasses, Leslie was once again her flamboyant self.

"I will give this as a reward to anyone-" she pointed at each of us with the slicer, " -who can tell me something about themselves that nobody ever knows about. But.." She held up a finger. "But.. in accordance to this sinful treat, it has to be something really sinful as well."

"I'll start!" Jessica raised a hand, fidgeting. "I'm not a natural blonde!"

We burst out laughing. She looked really sincere.

"Come on Jess, we could tell. Hair grows, you know," Eric said, tears coming out of his eyes.

"And you have that salon date every end of the month." Mike nodded. "Goodness knows I've been through enough of those."

"Oh, so you have?"

"Oooh. LQ!"

"Nope!" Leslie said. "Next!"

It was Mike's turn. "Well, how to put his, um—I had to pay for my appointment at the company. Nobody would hire me so…"

"Bribery! Worth one of the circles of Hell!"

"Mike, we know you paid Coach to be in the basketball team." Surprisingly, that was from Angie. He was flabbergasted at our looks, she only shrugged. "I'm in the paper, remember?" We were rolling.

"Busted!" Leslie waved the glass. "Next!"

Eric held a hand to his chest. "Of course, I'm obviously out, because you all know I don't have any secrets, especially about my escapades—"

"TMI! TMI!" We were shouting.

Angie was such a goody two-shoes, we never had anything on her.

"Angie is a saint compared to Bella here."

"Hear! Hear!" We toasted another round.

"Thank you so much, so I suppose I'm the default winner of this cake." I bowed, and moved to take it.

"Wait, what about me?" It was Rob.

We all turned to stare at him. "Excuse me? You think you deserve this cake? I'll fight you for it, you know." Raising my fork in a mock fencing stance, we laughed again.

"Well," he looked down at his plate, fiddling with the cutlery. "I never thought it would be like this when I first agreed to be an actor. I live in absolute terror of getting mobbed whenever I go out, and this face is splattered on papers everywhere, I don't have an ounce of privacy. It may sound churlish, I know, but I wish, sometimes, that… I wasn't me."

There was a brief interlude of quiet once more. That is, until Leslie gave her verdict.

"Sorry, good try, but we already know that too!"

At midnight, we greeted each other a Happy Christmas. Leslie gave us a few tokens, even one for Rob. She and Jess earned enough courage to ask him for a photo, which he happily obliged.

They escorted us out to the parking lot, not satisfied with waving us out the door. We said goodbye, and as we roared off I thought I could hear the sound of screaming.

"Thank you for the evening," Robert said as we came back to my place. "That was the most fun I've had in ages."

"No, thank _you_." I smiled. "Sorry about Jessica."

"I've had worse."

I opened the door, hesitant. Then I took a breath and asked him anyway. "Um- a cup of tea before you go?"

"Thanks but I have to leave. Can I ask you something, though?"

"Sure."

"What was the thing they didn't know about you?"

Tilting my head, I briefly considered the answer.

"I suppose- I'm afraid of getting hurt. But that's not really sinful, is it?""

"Fair enough." He leaned close, and my eyes closed before he got even closer, like before. I felt his lips on my forehead, and he pressed a small package to my hands.

_Merry Christmas._

* * *

**Better late the never, right? Hope you like this.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 up... Sorry, but I won't be able to make it, obviously. My baby's been sick. Sigh. Thanks for the support****!**

* * *

So I was sitting there at the carpet.

It's been two days after the eventful Christmas Eve dinner. During the entirety of that time, I never left the apartment and subsisted on "relief goods": various canned foods, mostly tuna and sandwiches.

So I was sitting there at the carpet when the phone rang. I never answered it. If I had a machine the person calling could've left a message, but then again I made a point of not buying any to ensure my privacy.

So I was sitting there at the carpet, trying to complete my Mirra article without thinking any more of him. Good thing only a handful of people knew my phone number, and I don't want to talk to every single one of them. So I finally pulled the cord.

I was about to conclude my article, even allowing myself a small grin of triumph. That is, until I remembered that Leslie has a key. Crap. Come to think of it, I wonder how she managed to last this long.

Like a scene from a horror movie, I started at the slight noise at the front door. Gripping the edges of my laptop, I watched as the doorknob slowly turned….

If I wasn't looking, I would never recognize the uncharacteristically quiet entrance. She was even crouched low, probably anticipating my irregular sleeping habits. Wow, I feel a bit embarrassed.

"Hi Bella." Another head, with white cat's eye glasses, peeked behind the door. I only grinned again.

To her credit, she was magnificent. She then swooped up and down in front of me like an eagle wearing a knitted coat.

"Alright, no BS Swan. What did you do and what happened?"

How do I go about this? Raising my eyebrows, I shrugged my shoulders in what I hoped was a nonchalant gesture.

"Nothing. As you can see–" I made a sweeping hand motion to indicate my grand abode. "—I never even left the premises. So. Nothing."

"You should have seen the looks on their faces when you left," Angie said as she made herself comfortable. Then she laughed. "I couldn't tell if they were ecstatic or upset."

"Absolutely foaming, huh?"

"Sorry, that won't work!" Leslie took off her coat and scarf in another regal gesture then started snapping her fingers. "Details Swan, details!"

Faced with such a formidable inquisitor, how could I possibly refuse? Still, in accordance to a previous agreement, I only said that I won a raffle to meet him at the vogue exhibit. Well, something like that. No sense getting them all riled up, such as it is.

"That's it?" Angela was only curious.

"I should've gate crashed that party when you asked me to! That must've been a sign from the cosmos!" Leslie was more –er– emotional. She went on a similar vein as I got up, printed the article, and made us coffee. When I got back to her, she was a bit more composed. Her eyes took on a disturbing glint.

"Okay, so – he took you home, right? Did he say, or better yet, do anything else?"

"What? What do you take me for?" I scowled over my mug. "I never even kiss on a first date!"

"Yeah, you don't get that many of those, and Bella, Robert Pattinson just doesn't come out of thin air!"

Actually, he kinda did. But I wasn't giving more details.

"I'm sure he's got girls aplenty, thank you very much," I said tartly. Remembering the box gave my heart a little flip though.

"Swan, come on! Either you don't like him or you're a plant if his very presence doesn't affect your mind functions. No offense Angie."

"None taken."

"There! So, didn't you even try to stroke his cheek, stroke his hair, or even have a little smack?!"

"That's right. I'm afraid of getting sued for harassment, so there."

""Ooh, so you planned to harass him? You tramp!"

Even Angela laughed at that. Leslie reached out a hand and took a firm grip of my noise. Squeezing tightly, she then made her other hand pinch my right cheek.

"Ow ow, leggo! Leggo, you deranged witch!" That hurt. I was contemplating how to achieve my revenge when, unexpectedly, the phone started ringing. I glared at the usual suspect, who only grinned evilly before letting me go.

"Are you getting that?" she peeked at the ID and smiled wider.

"Why?" I crossed my arms and scowled again.

"Because it's coming up as an unknown number, that's why! It could be him!!!"

"That's not conclusive enough." I never moved. Meanwhile, the phone kept on ringing. Since I knew from experience that it took about fifteen or twenty rings before the call drops, I only counted.

Ten, eleven, twelve....

Leslie shoved the receiver on my ear.

I glared again, covered the mouthpiece, and sighed.

"Miss Swan?"

Oh. A female voice. "Yes?"

"This is Kris, Kris Hale. I'm a relations officer for Vogue magazine."

I stuck my tongue out. Leslie's happy face dropped so suddenly I could hear it shatter.

"Hi Kris! So… how can I help you?"

"Will you be willing to do an emergency assignment for us?"

Wow, a job! Giving a thumbs up, I gestured for them to find me a pen and paper.

"Go ahead, I'm not one to refuse a paycheck."

"Great!" The voice was so relieved. "I'll be sending a car for you in about thirty minutes, that's your ride to the Hamptons."

Whoa! "Wait? _That_ much of an emergency? At the Hamptons?"

My audience was rapt. Their eyebrows were as high as mine.

"Yes, Robert said you're a freelancer and we really need someone to interview him tonight, otherwise we won't make the rushes."

I suspended my disbelief and allowed myself to take note of the details she gave me. After a bit of awkward goodbyes, I hung up and stared the phone.

"Well? What was the job about?" Leslie asked.

I had to cover my ears before I told them, because I would have been deaf otherwise. When they've calmed down again, they made me make good use of my time by making me decide what to wear. We decided on a pretty buttoned up blouse with lace trimming, along with a long romantic red skirt. It looked cute and kept me warm at the same time. Leslie made me use her new coat; we were doing the buttons when the doorbell sounded.

"Okay, wish me luck guys!"

"Ask him if he has a girlfriend, but very discreetly, ok?!"

The ride was surprisingly short. Or perhaps it was because of my nerves. It only took about an hour, and I made sure to jot down the questions I might ask. When we got off the freeway, the car turned to a pair of the most enormous and extravagant gates I have ever seen. Fiddling with my purse and notepad, I gave the driver a nervous smile as he opened the door for me.

"Hi Bella!"

Alice the pixie ran to me, carrying several suits. "Good you made it."

"Yeah. Um – so who do I report to?"

She pointed at one of several crew vans in the parking lot then tugged my hand. Soon enough, I was shaking hands with Kris herself.

"Thank you so much for coming out on short notice. We're running on tight schedule as it is, and our staff writer simply had to give birth today and _of course_ we can't find a replacement." She said that all in one breathe. She was tall, wearing rimless glasses and a black power suit.

"Robert thought about you, and we looked for your number." Alice smiled at me. I like her – she's really friendly.

"Okay, to maximize the time, we'll do this after the shoot," Kris was saying as we walked towards the set. "You don't mind if we record this? We'll probably upload it on our website."

They never even listened to my half-assed attempt to protest. My voice completely disappeared by the time I saw the photo shoot set: it was a flower-strewn gazebo by the lake. There were well hidden spotlights that serve to make the whole setup even more surreal. The entire gazebo was decorated with Christmas lights.

"Nice, eh?" Kris was like a proud mother. "We'll probably start in fifteen. Lemme see," she said, looking me up and down. "How about a bit of makeup before we start rolling, alright?"

By now we were at the honest-to-goodness makeup area, complete with the lightbulb-framed mirrors and folding chairs. Kris waved another girl over and introduced he as Lianne, the makeup artist.

It was a bit unsettling to be at the other end of the makeup brush. I hardly even used lipstick. To distract me, I went over my questions again. That's when I saw Alice, still standing beside me.

"Hey, Alice, is he a bit –um irritable about certain subjects?"

"No, you can ask him anything."

"Really?" this wasn't exactly my first interview, but I know from personal experience that people have several boundaries. Especially the British. "Have you worked with him long?"

"Just a couple of years. I'm also his personal stylist, because otherwise he'll wear the same shirt in two parties and he won't even notice."`

We laughed at that. Then I realized something that made me bite my lip a bit. She's young, they're always together....

"He's my cousin." She was smiling a bit too knowingly.

"I didn't say anything." Oh my god! Was my face that transparent?

"Okay, Bella, are you ready?" Kris came back from the set. I never even noticed her walk away. "We're just doing a few shots, then do the interview."

"Sure." Standing up, Lianne took my coat and brushed my skirt a bit. "How long do we have?"

"Maybe twenty, thirty minutes. We'll pack up while you do it."

By now the moon had completely risen, and as we neared the gazebo I felt my heart move up my throat.

Robert was wearing a tuxedo, the jacket open and his tie undone. He was sitting at the steps, brooding over s single red rose. The photographer only made him turn a few times, but he needed no other motivation. It was different, seeing him in action. There was the air of mystery, daring, mischief – and bit of mockery, I think. Was that for him or whoever was looking?

Then we were behind one of the spotlight, and his eyes caught mine.

He smiled. A definite, heart stopping smile that lip up his face and made my blood pressure shoot up.

"And we're done!" With a final flash, the photographer shook his hand. Kris immediately went away with him to one of the trailers, probably for the stills. One of the assistants motioned me to one of the chairs by the table, then gestured at the small videocamera by on of the pillars. To my surprise, even Alice walked away.

"Hi." With a smooth flourish, he sat on the chair opposite me and me the flower.

"Thanks." I can't help it. I felt my face getting hot.

"Sorry about the short notice, I just remembered you said you write freelance, so." He did a small shrug.

"Yeah, thanks for the invite." I remembered the notes I was holding, and I leafed through them to have something to look at.

"Shall we start then?"

Licking my lips, I coughed a bit to clear my throat. "It must be a drag, not having to celebrate the holidays at home."

"Yeah, but then again I think I'll only be here until the first week of January. By then I think would've fulfilled all my commitments."

Sardonic. "So how are you enjoying your stay this time?"

He fiddled with the tables napkins – he has pretty hands.

"Pretty good, now that I know what to expect. I –uh– try to _blend_ whenever I go out."

"Obviously I can't ask how." I couldn't help teasing him.

Robert laughed. "Yeah, you might get implicated! Seriously, though, of course I don't have to complain overmuch. For one, my clothes are better, and I don't have to worry about the rent."

"How different were those days?"

"I'm not exactly the struggling artist, if you mean that. There are quite a lot of pubs, after all. Plus the gigs were coming along fine."

"I'm sure people have asked you this, but speaking of gig, do you still don't have plans on an album?"

"Oh, that." Stretching his legs, he put his arms behind his head and looked at the ceiling. "I love music. I love playing, of course. But then again, even if I have time, I would've found it hard to focus. I'd prefer concentrating on one major occupation for now."

"What do you like most about your status today?"

"Perks!" he rubbed his hands together. "This sounds pretty lame, but I like the fact that I can buy whatever I want now. Well, basically."

"Of course."

"Thanks, I thought it's a pretty simplistic answer," he said, making _me_ laugh again.

"Okay… How about the films? You've always done unconventional roles. Will you still do so, given your fame in the romance/fantasy genre?"

"Wow, that's tough." He stretched his head. "We'll, I've always taken roles that intrigued me,, personally. If I'm challenged as to how this certain person, or idea, can possibly relate with me…that piques my interest."

"I read somewhere that you took up acting to impress a girl. Was it effective?"

"Actually, it wasn't. Not one bit." Shaking his head, he tried to act forlorn as we laughed again.

As I sobered, I realized this is probably the longest conversation we had about him. And that I was more relaxed.

"So you've been a vampire, a gay painter and a war pilot. Any other roles you'd like to try?"

"Maybe a bit of thriller or suspense. I don't know if I look right for action." There was that mischievous twinkle in his eyes again. "I do hope I won't get typecast; that would be tragic."

He was funny, witty and talented. You rarely get guys with the complete package nowadays. Before I knew it, Kris and the others were back and signalled me for one last question.

"Alright. Last, but not the least. What question would you have liked someone to ask you but never did?"

He tapped a finger on the table a bit. "How about…'What was the most daring thing you ever did?'"

"So what is it?"

"I don't know yet. I hope I found out soon, though."

And then we were standing; people swarmed all over him and the set; someone was telling everybody to clear out, another started dismantling the set. I took a deep breath and was about to walk away, but Kris pulled my sleeve. She was talking to someone on her phone while slipping an envelope with the other, I nodded and put it in my purse. Then I went to take my coat.

"How are you getting back?" he was a few steps behind me.

"Oh, I'll just take a cab. Or ask one of the drivers here–"

"Would you like to ride with me instead?"

Huh. Turning around, I looked up at him. He ran his fingers through his hair again. You are helpless under the power of that gaze. Ignoring a chorus of doubts, I found myself saying "yes".

After all, that's what any girl with hormones would do.


End file.
